Chapter 1 || A Wren Is Calling

It is finished, for years I have taken part in heinous crimes.
Blood drips from my hands like a red fountain borne of guilt, rooted within my pitch-black heart lays semblance of pity, of mercy.
My weary eyes well with tears, my body aches for mercy.
Tonight I pointed the end of a gun at the end of somebody guilty. 

The air burned with the scent of cloth and flesh smoldering in the remains of a pyre, a cloud of smoke billowed from the pit in which the flames started. At the edge of this fire stood a man shrouded in a cloak that hid his features, the cape wrapped around his body giving the imitation of a standing statue. It was too far out for anybody to notice the smoke--also too far out for anybody to hear the crime that had been committed minutes ago. Slowly the figure began to shuffle as his hand peeked out from behind the robes seemingly reached out for nothing--why was he doing this? To feel warmth? To say stop? Truthfully he didn't know, his mind was still conflicted with the decision that he had just made. This was his life, to suddenly rip it all away felt...wrong, his faith dictated emotional detachment above all things, the universe was cold and unflinching. 

He should be the same way. 

Never mind that he felt, they offered salvation at the edge of a knife, he wanted salvation at the edge of a forest. His body shuffled away from the fire as it crackled and the scent of burning flesh penetrated his nostrils. For a moment his eyes watered and he cringed at the repulsive scent of a burning human. He could never really dismiss or get over the scent of a body burning but it was the only way he could be sure that his means of escape were viable. There were ways to escape the Idle Thought, yes, but they never got away for long. Those who fled and deceived themselves with the prospect of freedom were drug back and and their wills broken, they had always called those the Dedicators, those who had dedicated their lives to the faith whether they wanted to or not. He had to kill his fellow brother to ensure that no such fate could ever befall him, it was only right yet it felt...sickening to take the life of another person. Each moment he remained here gazing into this blaze the worse he felt. Truthfully it was  human to feel guilt over taking the life of another person but damn it! Why couldn't he just let it be!? No, no. These emotions shouldn't get in the way...this was the only way, the path of salvation was stained with blood and fire--he knew this all to be certain. His face finally turned away from the fire as he glanced towards the horse that remained roped to a post nearby, he had left this equine alive as means of escape--his only path to salvation was the saddle bound above this horse. 

He took one last look at the smoldering campsite as he reeled the robes back taking count of the items that hung by his hip; a simple revolver with ammo pouches lined at his waist. On the other side a thigh strap held the sheath of a dagger that remained buckled in place waiting to be used again on whoever or whatever, finally he looked down at the journal which sat in the pouches of his vestment, this book catalogued his days and nights--every emotion he had ever felt was situated within the leather binds and textile fibers. This book was the only possession that Wren truly owned, he was proud of it in some way, the same way a gardener would be proud of their vegetable garden or how a scholar would be proud of their papers being published for thorough research. It was a victory that he felt within what he believed to me a meager and pathetic life, most of the time the Idle Thought would frown upon the use of personal belongings but its status as a literary work is what prevented the journal from being confiscated and destroyed. Before this, before finding himself within the arms of the Idle Thought he was a historian, he knew how to write and illustrate his findings, a skill he carried over into the Cult. 

All of his belongings had been accounted for and the preparations had been made with careful tending and planning that had been weeks, no, months in advance. Day in and day out he thought how to go about this process of departure. The window of opportunity to kill was the hardest decision above all else, he couldn't just slay him on the spot no, he needed to do it when the tension was low and when the suspicions were lower and it just so happened to be this was the night in which it had happened. 

Slowly he stepped towards the horse as to not spook it. His hands reached out as to calm the horse as it glanced towards him with its neutral expression, it seemed mostly annoyed that he would disturb the equine from whatever else it was doing before that--if it was doing anything to begin with that is. 

"Come on." He muttered as he raised his leg up slipping his boot through the stirrup leathers hoisting himself onto the saddle plopping down on the leather seating. Carefully he leaned over pulling his knife from his side as he got to work sawing down the rope giving the deception that horse raiders had been here and fled in a haste. That wouldn't matter anyways he thought, nobody would ever find this crime for a very long time, all that mattered now was that he needed to cover ground sooner rather than later. The hard part of his journey had been finished, now he just needed to find somewhere knew. 

"Go." 
His boot kicked the hide of the horse as it reared its head up with a huff. Its hooves stomped against the ground crunching the dead leaves that sat atop the permafrost ground in the dead of winter. He pulled the reins up directing the horse towards the north as his compass read, he had no idea where they were going.  Slowly the horse began to shuffle around as its rider continued to kick and nudge the animal into a moving again. It stomped around further before finally steadying itself into a walk. The further the horse and its rider went away from the fire the colder the air became, thankfully he had packed enough warm drinks and layered clothing that he would make it the first dozen miles or so. He knew that eventually he'd have to stop and pause for his sake and the horses sake but until then that didn't matter. By this time the horses pace had now turned into a gallop as it rode through the blackened forest on this clouded night sky. On either side of the woods he could hear the howls of wolves seemingly in pursuit of the man and the horse. He understood that these animals needed to eat in order to feed their young but he also knew that losing this horse meant that everything he had done was all in vain, but by the Heavens above would he die  before he let that happen. Carefully he reached down at the side of the horse as he unhooked an empty lamp that dangled and flopped against the saddle straps which it hung by. He needed oil of course, surely the saddle bag had it somewhere. After a few tedious moments of rustling and searching through the pouches he finally came across the lamp oil that he surely needed. In his hand he held the tin canister that held the fuel needed to illuminate the lamp and with a sleight of his hand he cautiously removed the chimney, pouring the source of light into the cannister and igniting it with a bright orange hue that glowed the area around the horse and its rider. 

It was at this moment that the howling of the wolves stopped, the sudden silent forced the rider into attention as his eyes darted all across the illuminated land that he could see. There was nothing as far as he was concerned but he just couldn't shake the feeling that someone, no, something was watching him. Slowly he pulled the horses gait to a slow step as he scanned the area once more, typically wolves did not go quiet unless there was another apex predator in its territory which on that fact alone frightened him more than anything else. It was at this moment the glow of the lamp reflected off two amber-colored eyes looking direct at him. Quickly he jerked the horse back forcing it into a stop as he looked directly at the entity just far out enough from the lamp to make out any features, for a moment he considered calling out to the figure in hopes it was just a lonely hunter or perhaps a local tribesman who crossed paths with the rider, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this thing was not human. It continued to stare him down as its eyes showed a hint of madness locked onto its face, slowly it began to circle the horse and its rider not once breaking eye contact with the man. From the faint outlines and the silhouette that he could trace this entity--whatever it was, was taller than he was on horseback and hunched over, it seemed that it walked by grazing its frontal limbs across the ground as to gain momentum when moving. The mannerisms though, it didn't seem particularly interested in attacking him as it would've done that already, perhaps it was a message or a warning for the rider to continue on if he valued his life. Whatever message this beast was sending by pure motions alone he obliged continuing on horseback for the foreseeable future. 

For hours he had spent trekking through these woods alone, he could tell that daylight was soon approaching by the stirring of birds and smaller mammals through the trees. By his estimations alone it seemed that he had covered at least thirty miles from his departure from the campsite. That was good enough to rest for now he thought as he spotted the dusk breaching across the cloudy skies, the faint orange hue slicing through the gaps in the trees illuminating the grounds below him. To his left he spotted a small lake that he could easily stop and take a rest for the time being for both his sake and the horses sake. His reins tugged left as he directed the horse to the pond before coming to a stop at a nearby tree that resided at the edge of the bank. He pulled himself off the horse stepping down onto the soft grass that molded his boot prints beneath the soil, slowly he looked around the area spotting potentially other riders or navigators, the location was clear which meant he could finally rest for just a few hours before continuing on his journey again. After the horse had been tied up and it had been refreshed with water he pressed his back to the side of the tree before sliding down the bark until he found himself sitting comfortably on the ground. He could feel his eyes growing heavy as the warmth of the sun was seemingly telling him to rest, even if just for a few hours.  

Midday approached and he was woken up again by the sound of a bird sitting on the branches above him. Its chirps and songs were sweet to his ears as it gave a sense of easiness to the tensions and confliction he had been feeling every since last night. For a moment he shuffled around trying to find himself comfortable before opening his eyes to the serenity of the forest that he found himself in. The daylight had made it much more safe to look around without the risk of a wolf or bear killing him during his moment of vulnerability. His head turned to look up at the bird that chirped and called for a mate or potential mate, he was no zoologist but he could easily tell birds apart when he saw them and he knew immediately what this avian was by the body shape and call alone; the Wren. How ironic wasn't it? He found himself in common with these birds, they were explorers and wanderers. Perhaps he too was just like the Wren. He wanted to stay just a little while longer and listen to the call of this bird but he knew that there was no time to waste, the Idle Thoughts prophecies were nigh, soon they would venture to the tomb of the Chimera and awaken it--that thought alone frightened him, the only way to stop their summoning was to stop the Idle Thought itself. But before he could go there was one last thing he needed to do, he reached his hand through the robes as he pulled out the leather journal he kept so close to himself. A single trap kept the book from spilling open its contents. Undoing the strap he flipped through the pages silently recounting his days and nights from all those years ago. He briefly stopped on the page he had written last night before shaking his head dismissing those thoughts of regret once more. In another pocket he pulled out a quilled pen and a bottle of ink that sloshed around with a shake as he confirmed that it had not dried out just yet, eventually he'd have to obtain more ink but that didn't seem to matter as of right now. 

The sun rises.
I am unsure of how much ground I covered in a single night but I made my decision. 
In my travels through those woods I encountered a figure who watched me. I know not why they stalked and let me live, but I take their offer graciously.
But in my journey through the night it occurred to me what my mission is
I now know what I must do if I am to survive. 
They must not win, they must not awaken the Chimera.
I will make sure of it. 

In these pages his goal was set in motion. Whatever could be done needed to be done, whatever he should do must be done, that was for certain. He declared that no one shall get in his way, his fate laid thousands of miles away in the heart of a desert, that is where his destiny was to be uncovered. Slowly he rose to his feet stepping over to the horse as he took one last lake at the reflection he found himself entranced by his own appearance. For a moment he paused reaching his hands up as he pulled back the hood that kept his face hidden. In this reflection he saw what he truly was for the first time. No longer was he a zealot within the clutches of the Idle Thought, he was born again as a vagabond, a voyager--no. He was much like the Wren that called him out of a slumber moments ago. Perhaps that was his new name now, a title passed to him by nature's most beautiful song. He was Wren...The Wren.